


As Daylight Melted into Eve

by fashi0n



Series: A Maiden Dark and Fair [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, By Westeros Law Girl!Jon is Not Underage, Canon-ish Timeline Eventually, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fem!Jon Snow, Girl!Jon, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Incest, No Actual Sex Scenes, Period Typical Attitudes, R plus L equals J, Rule 63, Set Three Years Before Lord Arryn's Death, pre-canon timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3259793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fashi0n/pseuds/fashi0n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johanna Snow and Stannis Baratheon have reached an accord and are fumbling their way through marriage and parenthood. Pity the rest of Westeros has to get involved in both.</p><p>Sequel to 'Be Not Afeard'. Second in the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a fill for the kink meme prompt:
> 
> “When Selyse dies Robert tells his brother he's going to find him a new young pretty wife. Stannis is not impressed when this turns out to be Ned Stark's legitimized bastard but marries her as commanded but sends her to Dragonstone to keep her away from Robert. On a visit home he finds much more welcoming chambers, a happier daughter and a younger brother willingly visiting, he takes time to get to know Jon and by the time he returns to court his wife is expecting. When their child is born Lord Arryn is very interested in the fact the baby has thick black hair..... Bonus points for R+L=J - Stannis finds out when Robert dies that GirlJon's father was Rhaegar who had taken Lyanna as another wife. So his claim to the throne is strengthened by his wife and houses who declare for him as his wife is a Targaryen Princess.”

* * *

  

* 

Stannis scoffed and tossed one of the many congratulatory missives into the pile on his desk. The Hand’s letter had been brief, but sorely lacking in any mention of his brother. Stannis noted darkly that Robert had not sent any word or note along indicating his pleasure at the news, and he would probably not even acknowledge the pregnancy until they announced the child at court. Cleary, it annoyed Robert to know that his brother had managed to impregnate his precious Lyanna look-alike.

Well, she was Stannis’s wife, and Stannis planned to always stand between her and Robert. Especially since he knew it was Johanna’s desire that he did so. Further still, she was insulted at the thought of becoming just another bed warmer for the king.

He was surprised that his niece and nephews, along with their mother, had each sent a note. Of course, he only believed that Myrcella and Tommen were genuine in their professed happiness and that Cersei, who truly loved all her children, had only done so to please her youngest, and Joffrey had done so to please his mother.

Indeed, Cersei had addressed her note to Johanna, but Stannis did not mind. He and Cersei had never got along and so her slight did not matter to him. It was almost expected.

But, ultimately, Cersei did not matter to Stannis, but Robert’s continuing interest in his wife did. Johanna was married to him and Robert had only himself to blame for that. He would have to accept that Johanna was never going to be his.

It vexed Stannis that he was so annoyed by Robert; his brother and his disrespect of Stannis’s person always dug its way under Stannis’s skin. He could never just accept it. He was Robert’s blood and a lord of great standing in the Realm. Robert should not dismiss him so easily.

But his elder brother always did.

It was a pleasant surprise, however, that Renly was still at Dragonstone along with Ser Loras. Renly was still behaving friendly and agreeable. Stannis still struggled with Renly’s easy nature and humor but he made an effort to get along, as did Renly. They both did it for the same reason: it made Johanna happy.

His wife was glowing in her pregnancy well into her fifth month. He still remembered Selyse’s unhappy pregnancy with Shireen, and her miscarriages, but Johanna seemed to be thriving, as did their child. Johanna still liked to walk along the beach, though she did so more slowly these days, and curl up in her ‘viewing room’ on the couches facing the sea; her strength was not sapped as Selyse’s strength had been.

But then, Johanna was as comfortable in Dragonstone as Dragonstone was with her, something Selyse had never achieved.

Still, Stannis found a worry gnawing at him because he could not shake his memories; and so, in addition to Maester Cresson, he brought the best midwife that Ser Davos could find to Dragonstone to look after his wife.

Glaring again at the letter from Lord Arryn, Stannis stood, restless. His wife was resting in her room today, keeping in mind the admissions of Maester Cresson to not be too active, and Stannis found a sudden desire in him to speak to her.

She looked a little bored when he first stepped into her room but her face lit up when she saw it was him. 

“Stannis,” she greeted happily. “How are you?” 

“I am fine,” he said dismissively. “How are you? Are you comfortable enough?”

Johanna let out an overly dramatic sigh. “The cub and I are bored. I’m looking forward to dinner just because I’ll be leaving this room!”

“I wish you would not call our child that,” he grumbled.

She arched an eyebrow. “Well, then, shall we go back to deciding on names? Renly is still campaigning for ‘Renly’ for both genders, Ser Loras is trying to convince me that Lora Baratheon does not sound stupid for a girl, and I still can’t get Shireen to express an opinion. Oh, and now my brothers all want the cub to be named after them as well.” She gestured at the bureau across from her bed where he could see an assortment of opened letters lingered.

Stannis snorted. He had no strong feelings himself, except that it should be a fine Baratheon name, but he did know some things for certain: “We are not naming our child after Renly. Ever. My brother will just have to be disappointed. And we are certainly not naming our child Lora.”

“I know,” Johanna nodded firmly. “It sounds like the name of one of Theon’s whores.”

“I am going to write to Lord Stark about his ward’s behavior,” Stannis growled, again irritated by the reveal that Theon Greyjoy talked so easily about his activities to both Robb and Johanna, teasing them with his knowledge. It was certainly not at all proper for him to do so; he was just pleased that Johanna had had the strength to ignore Greyjoy’s teasing and instead find it merely humorous.

“To be fair, Theon only ever made sure I could hear him when he wanted to be annoying.”

“Somehow, that does not help,” Stannis replied dryly. “What names do you favor?”

“There are three I favor for a boy,” Johanna admitted. “But I can’t seem to narrow down my choices for a girl.”

He took a seat beside her on the bed and she leaned into him, her head resting comfortably against his shoulder.

“What names do you like for a boy?” he asked, curious.

“Orys, Steffon, and Rickard, for your House and mine,” she said immediately. “And I think Shireen likes Orys as well but I can’t get her to admit it. It’s the girl names that are giving me trouble. I can’t even narrow it down to three!”

A warm feeling swept through him. “I approve of all names. They are strong, fine names.”

She turned her face towards him and whispered, “I want to use all three names. That’s how many sons we should have, husband.”

He held her close and closed his eyes, imaging the picture her words painted. Strong sons with their mother’s smile and laughter, running through the halls of Dragonstone, sitting at his knee and learning the art of ruling, as he had once done with his father.

He titled his head down and kissed her.

The image was everything he could ever want.

She responded with passion, melting against him. “You are supposed to be helping me pick girl names,” she murmured before moving in for another kiss. Her passions had grown with the later months of her pregnancy and, while Stannis felt he should feel guilty for enjoying it so, he found he could not regret it.

He found only one fault with Johanna and that was that she was so much younger than him; he counseled himself thusly that she had grown up faster than others and he should think of her as a person in her own right first and everything else second.

“I will be fine with any name,” he replied, tracing the curve of her stomach with his free hand. “Let our sons’ names reflect the histories of both our houses and our daughters’ be their own.”

She pulled back to stare at him and then smiled so brilliantly that Stannis could not help but smile back.

“Yes,” she said warmly, “Let it be just as you have said, my lord.”

* 

Johanna’s labor began just as the season’s first storm started to break. The men, Renly, Ser Loras and Stannis, had just arrived back at Dragonstone the day before from a short trip to King’s Landing - Stannis taking only two weeks while Renly and Ser Loras had previously left for a two month stay, promising to return for her child’s birth. Neither her father nor her siblings had been able to make the journey down for the birth of her child, but their letters and her father’s promise to be there when her child was presented to the court had soothed her and eased her disappointment.

The fact that her good-brother and his lover - though Johanna was still embarrassed how long it had taken her to realize that - could make it had done a lot to ease her disappointment, as well.

She was sitting with Shireen when it happened; resting comfortably in her bed with what was practically an army of pillows at her back. Shireen was reading aloud to her about the Ser Duncan the Tall while Johanna was half listening and half dozing off as she listened to her little step-daughter and the distant sound of rain falling.

Johanna had shifted a bit in her place, pushing up to lay higher on her pillows when a sharp pain ran through her. She opened her eyes and clutched at her stomach with a soft gasp, causing Shireen to immediately stop and gaze at her, her eyes big and brow furrowed. Johanna moved up with one arm out to grasp and reassure the girl she was fine, but as she moved again she felt fluid pool inbetween her legs and soak the white sheets of her bed. She pushed herself up as quickly as she could and began shoving at the sheets, with Shireen helping to move back the covers.

She stared at the clear fluid for a second before looking up to the girl, trying to make her voice as steady as she could. “Get the Maester and the midwife, quickly,” she said at once. “I think I’m about to give birth.”

Wide eyed and pale, Shireen nodded and darted out the door, her book falling to the ground after her.

Never, in all her wildest dreams, could Johanna imagine how painful labor was. She had been warned, certainly, just as she was warned lying with her husband would hurt at first, but that pain had passed quickly and she thought she had born it well.

She was a fool to think she could easily bear this pain easily.

She shrieked and wanted to bear down with all her might but the midwife caught her and began to push her back down.

“Not yet, milady,” the old woman said. “It’s not time yet.”

She was gasping for breath, tears pricking at her eyes, and her world was aflame with agony.

“When?” she gasped. “When?”

“Soon,” Maester Cresson promised her. “Soon. I promise, my lady, you just have to breathe through it a little longer.”

She forced back her tears and sucked in a deep lungful of air, repeating it until she lost herself in her breathing. She could do this. Her mother had done it before her as had Lady Stark. She could do this.

She could do this, no matter how much it hurt. It would be over soon and the reward would be well worth it, she told herself. This was her child she was bringing into the world and all the pain in the world was worth that.

“It’s time,” the midwife urged, hours later. “Push milady. Push!”

Johanna gasped as the pain was overbearing for a brief second and then she began to push, her world narrowing down to the overwhelming need her body had. All her thought and being was focused on the demands of her body. She could not tell how long it took, so focused was she at breathing and pushing, and some part of her was wailing: Where is Stannis? Why was he not here with her?

And then a child’s wail broke through the pain.

She let out her only sob of the day when she finally heard her child’s cry. Her child was alive. That was all that mattered to her right now. She had done it and delivered a living child.

Whatever came next, she could deal with it, content in just that simple knowledge.

*

Stannis stood silently, waiting as patiently as he could for the news. Ser Davos stood next to him, trying to project an air of calm but he could not stop the restless twitching of his good hand. The Maester and Midwife had forbade him from entering the room, even though he could occasionally hear Johanna calling his name. It was for the best, he was told, for whatever happened.

Ser Loras had his back to the wall and was also trying to project an air of calm, though his eyes were on Renly and Shireen, who were sitting together and almost vibrating with nerves. No one said anything, too concerned with what was going on in Johanna’s bedroom to think of anything to say.

The servants kept finding excuses to bustle around where the five of them were waiting, trying not to look to eager for news. The servants had begun to embrace their new lady over the past year since her arrival; they were almost as fond of her smiles and quiet cheer as Stannis was.

He almost wanted to pray, but he did not know which gods to pray to. The Seven who had ignored him all his life or to Johanna’s gods, the ones she clung to so dearly?

But it did not matter because, finally, finally, Maester Cresson was slowly approaching, a bundle in his arms.

Stannis’s breath caught and he felt a little weak in his knees. Was that his child? Was she or he healthy?

Ser Davos leaned in, discreetly steadying him. “Easy now, my lord. It’s almost done.”

The Maester was smiling as widely as Stannis had ever seen him. He looked utterly joyous. Slowly, Stannis took a deep breath and let it out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother and daughter get to their feet when they spotted the Maester, excitement warring with nervous tension on their faces. He even saw Renly clasped Ser Loras’s hand before he returned his full attention to the old Maester.

“My Lord Stannis,” Maester Cresson said. “May I introduce you to your son? Your lady is resting well and decided on the name Orys, if it pleased you.”

A son.

A healthy son.

He had a _son_. 

He smiled genuinely and reached out to take his son, the other four crowding around him. He looked down at the sleeping babe in his arms, his head almost full with thick black hair and could not stop the wild grinning that was overtaking him.

“Yes,” he breathed with joy, unable to tear his eyes away from his unblemished and contently sleeping son. “Yes it pleases me very much.”

He looked down at his daughter, her eyes full of unshed tears and she beamed up at him, so innocently happy. “Shireen, meet your brother, Orys.”

She stood on her tip toes as he bent down to show her, and the girl smiled fondly at her brother, her small fingers reaching out to brush a tiny hand that had escaped the bundle. “Hello Orys,” she said in a watery voice. “I’m your big sister, Shireen, and I already love you lot. I’m going to take excellent care of you, just you wait and see.”

Renly laughed and reached out and Stannis carefully placed his son in his uncle’s arms.

“Oh, he’s perfect,” Renly said with open delight. “Well done, brother! Well done. He’s going to grow up to be a fine man.”

“A strong one too, no doubt,” Ser Loras said as he leaned over Renly’s shoulder to stare down at the babe, a soft expression on his face. “Congratulations to you and your lady, Milord.”

“A fine job, you two,” Ser Davos muttered, ducking his head slightly to hide his own watering eyes. “He looks to be perfect.”

“Yes,” Stannis said, squeezing Shireen’s shoulder, never taking his eyes off his son. “He is.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orys' first nameday at King's Landing.

It bothered Catelyn that she could not place her husband’s expression as he read Johanna’s letter.

It was easier for her to think about the girl now that she was no longer underfoot in Winterfell and safely wedded elsewhere. The girl was in Dragonstone now, far to the south, and the sons she bore would be to strengthen the Baratheon line and rule; they were unlikely to ever come north and threaten the descendants of the trueborn children Catelyn had given Ned.

Or so Catelyn hoped. In any case, the fear was easier to shake off now that Johanna was not in front of her, no longer always there for Catelyn to see. For years, since she had arrived at Winterfell with her son - with Ned’s heir - and found Ned’s bastard already occupying the nursery, it had been all Catelyn had ever wanted. And now the girl was gone. It was sweet, to finally have what she had wanted for so long.

With Johanna gone, Catelyn found it easier to breathe; the girl being far south made it easier to forgive Johanna the manner of her birth and the hurt it had always made her feel. It still left a little twist in Catelyn’s heart to feel that way, to blame a child for the pain she felt, but she could not help it. She could have forgiven Ned a hundred bastards, if only they never crossed her sight. Forgiving Johanna for the hold she and her unknown mother had over Ned had been too hard for her. That knowledge of herself, of her own failings, was bitter to Catelyn and it only made it harder to deal with Johanna.

Ned’s promise, their conversation the night Johanna had married also helped lay Catelyn’s mind to rest. With the assurance that, once Ned was ready, he would speak to her and, at last, tell her the truth, eased a burden off her shoulders. It had been hard to bear, the more she fell in love with her husband, to have a part of him that he kept closed off to her.

For too long she had feared what it meant. Feared that it meant that Ned would rather have Johanna’s mother by his side. That when he came to their bed, some part of him still wished it was the bastard’s mother he was laying with. He must have loved her, else why would he defend her child so vehemently, raise her daughter as though she were noble and not base? Why else would he place her beside his trueborn children unless he thought it was where she belonged?

For too long that had eaten away at her, hardening her heart against girl. The wound had festered within her and never healed. But now there was a chance that it might. It seemed, with Johanna wed and gone, Ned was at last ready to let her fully in.

Her husband’s words did continued to whisper through her mind at odd times simply because she did not understand them; and yet, with Ned’s reassurance that he would never trade Catelyn and their children for the life he might have led with Johanna’s mother, it was a weight off her shoulders.

She did not fear the answer to her questions as she once had. She knew that, when he was ready, Ned would tell her the truth. There would be no more secrets between them.

But still she frowned to see the paleness in Ned’ face at the news Johanna had sent. What was it that her husband feared so?

Catelyn thought back to what Johanna had written, knowing the answer lay in those words. She had diligently read the letter, more to please her husband and children than any real desire to know, but as she read, she had found that she was genuinely glad that Johanna had adjusted so well and was happy. She had never wished the girl ill, after all, merely that she did not exist or, truly, that she was not there, in Wintefell and forever in Catelyn’s sight.

The letter had been simple enough, Johanna telling them that the birth had gone well and that she was out of bed and moving about on her own, only two weeks after the birth, and then she had gone into enthusiastic pride over her son, eagerly recording every detail about him so that they could all picture the boy in their minds - a trait of mothers that Catelyn knew all too well.

 _We have named him Orys_ , Johanna had written, _and he is a fine and healthy boy, thank the Gods. His hair is black and thick already and he has the most wonderful of faces, though I might be biased as I am his mother. I was a bit worried about his eyes but Maester Cresson has assured me it is fine and not unexpected. His eyes are mostly blue, at the moment, but they have an almost purple tint to them. The maester says that since Targaryen blood runs in Stannis’s line, we should not be overly worried about it, as it likely does not indicate anything is wrong with Orys’s sight. His eyes just might always look more purple than blue._

Could that be it? Was Ned so pale because the babe’s eyes were that rare purple color? Ashara Dayne’s eyes had been purple, Catelyn recalled; did he fear that he could no longer hide that the Lady Ashara was the mother he had so long refused to name?

And yet, something in Catelyn’s heart said no. Treason, Ned’s voice whispered in the back of her mind, it is treason.

How could Ashara Dayne being the mother be treason? The Daynes had fought for the Targaryens, of course, with Ser Arthur Dayne in the Kingsguard and House Dayne itself for the sake of Princess Elia as all the Dornish Houses had but Catelyn could not believe that Ned feared reprisal from Robert for it. The king would likely think it a good jest, if Catelyn was any judge of character.

Ned had not lied that night, his voice too quiet and his face too pale for such deception; there must be something more to the story, then, something Catelyn was still unaware of or not yet seeing.

Why would Ashara Dayne break King Robert’s heart?

She would not, a voice inside her whispered.

Then who would?

The answer came to her in a flash of sickening clarity. The only woman who could break King Robert’s heart was the woman he had loved so deeply he had begun a war to take her back.

Lyanna Stark.

She opened her eyes, unaware she had even closed them, and turned away, hiding her face from Ned and the children gathered around him, eagerly conversing about their new nephew. She did not want her husband to see the realization on her face. Lyanna Stark, Ned and Brandon’s beloved younger sister; the woman Robert Baratheon had loved so much he had rebelled rather than suffer losing her.

The woman - girl, truly - that Rhaegar Targaryen had unjustly taken from her home and father.

Could it be? The whole North whispered that Johanna was as beautiful as Lyanna had been; they whispered in the halls of Winterfell that Johanna was Lyanna reborn, so alike to her in looks that it was as though she was Lyanna’s ghost.

She had dismissed the likeness because it was not so strange that a niece should resemble her aunt. Did not Arya have Lyanna’s looks too, and her wildness, as Ned was fond to remark? Sansa was just like Catelyn, looked just like Catelyn had when she was that age, and yet she held the promise to still be fairer.

Which was it with Johanna and Lyanna? Was it the relationship between Arya and Lyanna, a niece taking after her aunt, or Sansa and Catelyn, a daughter and her mother?

Gods! Could it be?

Could Johanna be Lyanna’s daughter?

And then Catelyn felt cold when she remembered who had taken Lyanna.

_The maester says that since Targaryen blood runs in Stannis’s line, we should not be overly worried about it._

Targaryen blood.

She felt faint as she realized what Ned might have meant when he said treason. The only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen, gotten on the woman his killer had loved… Yes. Yes, that was treason that would both break the king’s heart and enrage him beyond anything. It was a treason that would likely end Ned’s life, Johanna’s life, her newborn son’s life… and might even end the lives of Catelyn and her own children as well.

In that moment, Catelyn wanted nothing more than to believe that Ashara Dayne was Johanna’s mother and that was why Ned had returned from Dorne with his dead sister’s body and a babe in his arms. And yet… And yet…

If it had been Lysa or Edmure…

Catelyn would have lied and done it gladly. _I do not love my siblings any more than Ned does his_ , she thought. She knew that was true, knew how much Ned loved his remaining sibling and how much he still privately grieved his dead ones.

Ned would have done it. He would have claimed Lyanna’s daughter as his own in order to protect her.

She swallowed down her rage and fear at the thought. Gods be good, the risk of it all..! If the truth was what she now feared then there was nothing she could do but pray that everyone’s thoughts would remain on Ashara Dayne and not, instead, turn to the abduction that had caused the end of the Targaryen rule.

*

It was a hot summer day when they arrived in King’s Landing to present their first son to the Court and both Johanna and Orys were wilting in the heat. At heart, Johanna would always be a Northern girl and she found the heat of King’s Landing to be close to unbearable; Orys either sensed her moods or disliked the heat himself, Johanna could not tell.

“I cannot wait for a long soak,” Johanna confided to Renly who had been persuaded to ride in the wheelhouse with Johanna and Orys, “I might never get out.”

“You and me both, Jo,” Renly agreed, half leaning out the window, “Gods, I always think that it could not have possibly been that bad when the heat passes, and then it rolls around again to prove me a fool.”

Both Robb and her father had arrived at King’s Landing for Orys’s presentation, likely already waiting in the Red Keep for them to arrive, and Johanna knew her brother could not be enjoying the heat any more than she could. But at least she had been warned by Stannis, Loras and Renly, and a multitude of servants as well, and so gladly accepted the lighter dresses Loras had given her. Poor Robb must be sweltering right now. Hopefully Lady Stark had sent along some lighter clothes for her son.

Orys stirred unhappily in her arms and she rocked him back into slumber. At four months old, Orys was a usually happy and content babe, most at ease when he was in the arms of either his mother or father. He bubbled happily when Shireen read to him and loved to watch the wind chimes Renly had had made for him blow in the breeze.

She was eager to introduce Orys to his grandfather and uncle on her side, but less eager to introduce him to the king. Though Stannis had tried to keep it from her, Renly had confirmed her suspicions that only Lord Arryn had sent a congratulatory note on Orys’s birth. It made her worry that the king could still desire to bed her, to look upon her face and believe she was her aunt come again.

She might have been born a bastard, but she was still a Stark. Her honor - her very notion of it - was insulted at the thought of it.

She closed her eyes as they passed through to the Red Keep. Sometimes she felt there was a hunger in her for the sight of the Iron Throne; like Dragonstone, it set a fire in her.

Orys woke up as they left the wagon and began to babble, cooing at the sight of the red spirals before them. Johanna smiled.

Stannis joined her and she smiled at Renly when Ser Loras joined him, causing him to smirk at her. She leaned briefly into her husband and they stood still for a moment, together. Stannis straightened first but Johanna did not mind; she knew that he was eager to see this done.

They walked into the throne room, side by side.

She saw her father and Robb waiting and smiled at them both. Robb grinned at her, eagerness in his eyes, while their father’s smile was more sedate but there was real pleasure in his face when he looked at her. It warmed her heart and made her smile widen just a bit.

Johanna turned her attention then to where the Queen was standing, looking a little bored, something that made Johanna internally sigh a little. The Queen was beautiful but she was only charming when she wanted something. Otherwise she was disdainful and sharp tongued. However, the queen had been kind enough to Johanna, and her congratulatory notes a welcome sight, so she did not truly mind how the queen acted. As far as Johanna was concerned, Queen Cersei could act and do whatever she pleased as long as it was not against Johanna’s family.

Lord Arryn and his wife were on the right side of the dais, with the Queen on the left side, and the lord was smiling, looking at her and Stannis with the fatherly air he always had. She smiled back and met Lady Arryn’s eyes and the other woman to her.

The other members of the Small Council were also gathered in the room, seemingly content to stand by and watch this event be played out before them. She did not know them, but her husband had not spoken fondly of any of these men, nor had Renly or her lord father; that was enough for Johanna to have no desire for their company. Still, she resolved to learn more about each of the men. They sat on the Council with her husband. It made it likely they would call upon her while she was in King’s Landing and she did not wish to be caught off guard.

Orys giggled in her arms and Johanna risked a quick glance down to smile at her son. His blue eyes, growing darker and purpler every day, stared up at her and he smiled as well, laughing still. An all-encompassing love for her son beat in her heart; Renly told her that when she looked at Orys she glowed with pride and Johanna thought that it was likely true. As far as she was concerned, there had never been a more perfect babe than the one in her arms.

She could feel the king’s eyes on her but she squared her shoulders and refused to let it bother her. Even after all these years, Robert Baratheon was still in love with her aunt; she could no more change that then she could change her face.

“My Lord and Lady Baratheon,” Lord Arryn said warmly, “It is good to see you both.”

“Thank you, Lord Arryn,” Stannis said formally, his eyes distant.

Johanna spoke next because Stannis, the stubborn man, could not bring himself to utter polite lies. Johanna, on the other hand, was well used to polite lies and had no problem uttering them, especially since it had been all she and Lady Stark used when speaking to the other.

“We are both glad to be here, Your Graces, and introduce you to our son,” she said in a clear voice, looking up to the Iron Throne where King Robert sat uncomfortably. She met his eyes and there was clear longing in his face. In her heart, she felt sympathy for the king. He had to have loved Lyanna Stark a great deal to still be so pained by her memory more than a decade later.

But she was not her aunt; she was herself and she was happy to be Stannis’s wife. She did not want the king’s lonely eyes upon her, looking at her like she was the answer he had been dreaming of.

She wondered if the king would ever reconcile himself to this.

“Right,” the king sighed and waved his hand, “Let’s get this over with. It’s hot as hell and we’ll be feasting tonight. Show me your son, Stannis.”

She remained calm, despite the king’s blunt words; she would have preferred the grace and charm of a sweet lie but it was hot and she desired to soak in a long bath and feed Orys before he began to fuss. She could forgive the insult of bluntness. She did doubt, however, that her husband would feel the same.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Robb shift and she could see the tension in him. Stannis held himself still before turning to face Johanna, reaching out to take Orys. Carefully, Johanna placed their son in Stannis’s arms. He carried Orys to his elder brother and Robert reached out for him. Orys fussed at changing arms again but the king didn’t seem to mind.

He paused when looking at Orys, his face undecipherable, changing quickly from surprise, anger, and amusement, for a long moment. “His eyes are purple,” Robert said flatly.

Her father tensed and Robert looked to his childhood friend with amusement dancing in his eyes. “So what exactly happened with Ashara Dayne, Ned?” he asked, laughing, his strange fury chased away.

“Your Grace,” Father growled, his cheeks flushing. Johanna felt her own cheeks flushing as well. So that was it, then? After all these years, Ashara Dayne was the name of her mother?

Was it love or something far worse? But then, Johanna thought, she already knew how it ended. She had learned these past few months, what was whispered about her father and Lady Ashara - and what was whispered about the Lady Ashara’s fate.

Small wonder, then, that her father was still not ready to speak of it to her, if the Lady Ashara was indeed her mother.

Lord Arryn cleared his throat pointedly, casting his former wards warning looks.

“He’s a fine boy,” the king said gruffly, settling back against the Iron Throne and handing Orys back to Stannis. Orys was soothed by returning to his father’s arms, settling down again, and Stannis held him gently. “What’s his name again?”

“Orys, Your Grace,” Stannis said smoothly.

Robert looked amused again. “A Baratheon name. Good.”

Stannis returned to her, still holding Orys, but Johanna’s attention was caught by the queen. Discreetly, keeping her face towards the king, she lowered her eyes and looked to the queen. There was an odd tension to the queen now; she held herself too straight ever since she had caught a glimpse of Orys.

Was she like Lady Stark, then? Johanna had not thought so, seeing as how the queen still wore her House colors, displayed her family sigil openly, and was so proud a woman, but perhaps she too felt the sting that all three of her children took after her in looks. The Gods knew that Lady Stark had never forgiven Johanna for the fact that she had the Stark looks while only one of the trueborn children Lady Stark had borne had their father’s looks.

It seemed an odd thing for a woman who so clearly despised her husband to feel, but perhaps she would have preferred to give the king one child who looked like him, if only to lay any mocking whispers to rest.

She put the mystery of the queen’s manner out of her mind as they were dismissed. She and Stannis said goodbye to Renly and Ser Loras for the afternoon, parting from the pair, and then making their way to her father and brother.

She greeted Robb with a joyous embrace and he held her tightly in return.

“It’s good to see you, little sister,” he said, beaming brightly at her.

“You too, little brother,” she teased back, unable to stop smiling. “I’m so glad you and Father were able to come down for this.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Robb promised a glint of seriousness in his tone. His eyes were far too knowing and Johanna was caught between embarrassment that her brother knew her all too well and joy that he still knew her well enough to read what was in her heart.

Father, on the other hand, turned to Stannis, smiling, and took Orys into his arms. He looked down at his first grandson with a soft expression on his face, one so full of love that it warmed Johanna’s heart to see it. He held Orys gently, with almost a reverent air to him.

“He’s a beautiful boy,” her father said quietly, smiling down at Orys who babbled up at his grandfather in return. “My congratulations to both of you, Johanna and Stannis.”

Johanna gave her father a radiant smile. “Thank you, Father.”

Stannis visibly thawed and nodded to her father with respect. “Thank you.”

She gave her husband an amused look as Robb peered at Orys, a large grin growing on his face as he looked down at his sister’s son. Pride stirred within her; her son was a beautiful babe and she hoped too that he would grow to be good as well. Her heart felt happy and full as she looked at her son in her father’s arms, with her brother gazing down at his nephew; she leaned into her husband’s side and smiled.

All was right and good in the world at the moment and she was content to spend forever here.

*

It was a pleasantly sunny day when it happened. Looking back, it still shook Robb how close it had been and it left a sour twist in his gut. For years afterwards, it would be that fear, that shock, with which he associated King’s Landing.

She came in the early morning, one of the royal children's caretakers, during the morning meal. Johanna and Lord Stannis had both been hesitant to leave Orys with someone unknown but the maid came from the king who wanted to go hunting with Father, rather than attend the Small Council meeting Lord Stannis was obligated to attend. The Queen had sent along a note as well for she learned of the plans, telling Johanna she remembered her fondness for horses and that there were horses available if she and Robb wanted to spend the day away from the walls of the city.

Robb could not deny that he had been eager at the thought of it. While he would have enjoyed the hunt he knew, he honestly would rather spend the day alongside his sister.

Until she had left Winterfell, Robb had not fully known how much Johanna had been part of his life. Once the Royal Party was gone and Johanna with them, life had returned to normal in Winterfell, but its routine was shaken. The first morning lessons had resumed with Maester Luwin, Robb had waited for Johanna, as was custom. But she had not come.

Only then had he remembered that she would not be arriving that day to lessons nor all the days after it. A feeling of lost he had never known struck him. Johanna was heading south to her new home and they had all had to adjust to it.

She was not there to mock him and Theon at their lessons with Ser Rodrick anymore, not there to sit between Arya and Sansa at their lessons with Septa Mordane and keep the peace. She was not there to play nursemaid to Rickon or carefully go over figure and forms with Bran. She was not there.

There had never been a time in Robb’s memory where Johanna had not been by his side. For as long as he had been in Winterfell, so too had there been Johanna. But it was like that no longer and the realization of it had shook him.

This is what it means to grow up, Robb had realized. I will remain, I will be Lord Stark, and my siblings will leave to form their own lives and houses.

"How can you stand it?” Robb had asked Father, “To have Uncle Benjen be so far away, to be the only one left?”

Pain had crossed Father’s face and it had been several moments before he had answered. “It is not easy. I wish it could be, that you all will live only but days away from one another but that cannot be, now,” He had replied heavily. “You endure it, my son, and you find other people, your wife, your children, and your world grows with them. You never stop missing your siblings but it becomes an ache and not a wound.”

It had not been the answer Robb had wanted, but it had been the truth and he was grateful to his father for the honesty.

That morning, Johanna had proven time had not lessened her understanding of Robb, which he was also grateful for, and she had accurately read his desire to spend the day on the fields and not in the city. Still wavering, she had turned to the nurse. “You are one of the royal caretakers,” she had said politely, “How long have you been so?”

If the maid was offended to be questioned, she gave no sign of it. Instead, she had answered proudly, “Yes, my lady, I was brought here when the Princess was no older than your own babe. I cared for her then and was the head of the little Prince’s household until just this year. As the little Prince is five, it is time for the men to see to his education and so Ser Wendell is now in charge of Prince Tommen’s care.”

Lord Stannis had nodded slowly. “Yes,” he had said, “I recall you now. You are a Lannisport Lannister, are you not? Alana Lannister.”

For the first time, the maid hesitated and a worried look had crossed her face. “I am she, my lord. Is there anything wrong about that?”

Johanna’s husband had been quiet, scrutinizing the maid with a harsh look before shaking his head. “No. There is not.” Still he had not looked pleased about it but it had been decided. Orys would be left in the woman’s care for the day.

His sister had been quiet parting from her babe but Robb teased her into a smile on the way down to the stables. It was simple enough to take the horses set aside for them and go, well before the king and his party set out for their hunt. That had put Robb in an exceptionally cheerful mood, as he had never liked the way King Robert looked at Johanna. His sister was not their aunt, was not Lyanna Stark. He would never let her suffer such a fate.

Robb might never have been the avid rider Johanna or Arya were but he could not deny the pleasure of being on a horse and having the wind in his hair.

“Tell me everything,” Johanna had laughed as they rode, “I have missed you all so dearly.”

He laughed as well but the laugh had caught in his throat. He had missed her too.

The open fields of the Crownlands were nothing like the plains of the North. It was a softer, fresher country and Robb found himself missing the chill in the air, the scent of pines, and the low fog of home. He wondered if Johanna did too, or if she missed Dragonstone more. Unsure of what he wanted the answer to be, Robb decided not to ask.

They had not even been out an hour when Robb cursed in surprise as his horse suddenly lost its footing, its shoe lost. Johanna had swung off her horse at once to check on Robb’s mount.

“It’s no good,” she said, shaking her head, “We’ll have to go back.”

Robb shook his head, torn between amusement and disbelief. “I would have thought the horses of the Royal Stables would be better cared for.”

“As did I,” Johanna frowned.

Still, they made their slow way back to King’s Landing. They returned the horses to the apologetic and startled stable hands who fell over themselves to offer fresh horses. His mood dampened slightly, however, Robb decided impulsively that he would rather spend more time with his nephew.

“Let’s collect your son,” Robb said lowly to his sister, “We can all have lunch together.”

His sister lit up at the thought. Motherhood, Robb thought to himself, suited her well.

“Let’s,” she said eagerly, “Perhaps the little Prince and Princess would like to join us as well.”

Robb smiled at that. Tommen reminded him of a less confident and shyer Bran and Robb, and he enjoyed the uncomplicated hero worship the youngest Prince had for him. Easily, he agreed. He had no fondness for the older prince. He disliked Joffrey’s arrogance and the way he always wanted to challenge Robb. He still resented that Joffrey had refused to spar with him. He had demanded live steel-only because he knew it would not be permitted. He had not wanted anyone to see Robb best him and that still rankled Robb a bit.

They headed back to the rooms Johanna and Stannis were given and were nearly there when Robb spotted something odd at the top of the stairs.

“Is that Orys?” he asked, startled.

Johanna’s head jerked up and, for a moment, they both stared in shock at the sight of Orys crawling about at the top of the stairs. Robb could not see the maid. He could not see anyone minding his nephew who was now perched perilously at the top of the stairs.

Johanna moved first but Robb was only a breath behind her. They dashed forward, hearts in their throats as Orys, cheerfully and unaware, reached out, half his body now in open air. His heart pounding, Robb was more afraid than he was since Rickon’s birth; the world slowed down as Orys began to topple.

“Orys!” Johanna screamed and she threw herself forward, catching her son before his head hit the step. But Robb’s eyes were on the maid who he could now see, standing in the corridor, watching with a scowl on her face. 

Once she saw them, once she saw Robb looking at her, she moved towards them wearing an expression of dismay, the guard she had been chatting to right behind her. She started to say something but Robb was not listening. He could only stare at her, stunned.

“You did this on purpose,” he breathed, in shock.

The maid’s expression was full of fear and guilt. “Of course not!” she nearly shrieked, “How dare, why would I, it was just an accident!”

He turned away from her, not believing her for an instant. He felt sick. He could hear Orys crying behind him and Johanna, in tears herself, trying to comfort her son. Anger rose hot and ugly inside him.

He turned back and whatever the expression on his face was, it caused the maid to shrink from him in fear. Hardly aware of what he was doing, he took a step towards her. The guard did not seem to know what to do but he stepped back, seeming to be content to let Robb do as he wished.

“What is going on here?” a cold voice demanded.

“Stannis,” Johanna gasped, tears on her face, “Stannis.”

Stannis and Renly Baratheon had come up behind them, the rest of the Small Council trailing behind them, and while Renly was looking around in disbelief, Stannis looked angry.

“He nearly fell,” Johanna spoke again, her voice desperate and shaken, “Our son nearly fell.”

At that, Renly moved, nearly collapsing at Johanna’s side. Carefully, leaving Orys still in Johanna’s arms, he knelt to examine the boy, trying to see any hurts. He murmured things too low for Robb to hear, trying to soothe both mother and son.

“Fell?” Lord Stannis demanded before turning his burning gaze on the Lannister maid. “How did this happen?”

“She was not watching him, my lord,” Robb said coldly, “Orys was at the stairs and she was nowhere near him.”

At that, the maid tried to stutter something out but fell silent under Stannis’s gaze. Stannis turned to the guard next.

“Is this true?”

The guard swallowed hard and nodded. “It is, my lord,” he said in a small voice, “Lady Alana and I were speaking. She put your son down. It was only for a moment, I swear! I didn’t think anything of it!”

Stannis’s expression was thunderous. Robb had never seen Johanna’s husband express any emotion before and his anger was a terrible sight.

“It was an accident!” the panicked maid blurted out, desperation written all over her face. “It wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”

“But quite careless of a royal caretaker,” Littlefinger added silkily, the other members of the Small Council having drawn closer as the guard spoke.

“Indeed,” Lord Jon Arryn said, quiet and cold.

Alana Lannister’s face was a study in terror, but Robb felt no sympathy. She had been trying to kill Orys, Robb knew, and make it look like an accident. He knew what he had seen. The scowl on her face had been because of him and Johanna; it had been because they had saved Orys.

Now, the only thing Robb cared about was why.

“Let me see the boy,” Grand Maester Pycelle shuffled forward, almost reluctantly Robb thought, and Lord Stannis turned his gaze on him. Johanna’s husband was clearly angry, his anger practically rolling off of him. Whatever he was about to say, however, was interrupted by his younger brother.

“No need, Grand Maester,” Lord Renly said calmly, helping Johanna up, Orys in her arms. Orys was no longer crying but he was still sniffling. From what Robb could see, his nephew looked to be all right. He felt near weak with relief over that.

“I think it would be best if Lady Johanna and Orys were to rest now,” Renly continued, keeping a careful eye on the two.

“Of course, of course, this must be a very tiring situation,” Varys tittered, “Best let the poor things rest.”

“Yes,” Johanna said lowly before focusing on her husband, “Yes, we will rest. I trust my husband to see to all other necessary things.”

Stannis nodded grimly to her. "I will, my lady.”

Alana Lannister tried to back away at that but the guard stopped her, seizing her roughly.

“I believe that it is past time to establish just what has happened here,” the Hand said quietly but firmly, beckoning his own guards forward. “Take her to the cells.”

The maid could not help but let out a low moan of terror at that.

“Pate, Cullen,” Lord Arryn continued, “Please go and tell the king and Lord Stark what has occurred.” Both men nodded, bowed, and hurried off. The Lord Arryn then turned to Robb. “Now, young Robb, I would like to hear what you have to say.”

He followed Lord Arryn back to the throne room, trailed by most of those who had been in the corridor. New guards were fetched to watch over Johanna, Orys, and Lord Renly, who had elected to remain behind after a quiet conversation with his brother. The Knight of Flowers had also been summoned by Lord Renly to help Johanna feel more secure.

Exhausted, Robb told the story first to the majority of the Small Council, enduring their questions - and Littlefinger’s quips, until Lord Stannis lost his temper at the man. Robb was relieved by that. He did not like Littlefinger, despite him claiming to be a childhood friend of Lady Catelyn. He could not see how his mother had ever tolerated someone like him.

The guard was questioned after and he explained how the maid had come out of the room, carrying Orys in her arms and had stopped to talk to him, putting Orys down as she did. She had said she thought a little walk through the garden would be good for Orys and how she knew the Princess would delighted to see her cousin as well. It had all seemed perfectly normal, the guard declared earnestly, and he had been preparing to follow the maid, when the Lady Johanna had screamed. He admitted too to seeing the scowl on the maid’s face when Orys had nearly fallen.

Robb was buoyed by that.

With another collaborating his story, there was no way anyone could fail to see that it was an attempt on Orys’s life by the Lady Alana. It was a relief and a joy. Robb wanted justice.

Soon after, his father and the king returned and Robb was called upon to tell his story again.

It wouldn’t have been so bad, Robb thought afterwards, if the Queen had not also forced her way in.

“This is one of my children’s caretakers,” she had declared angrily.

“And a cousin of yours,” the king had muttered unhappily, reaching for his wine.

The Queen ignored him. “I will be here, I will not be left out.”

All too soon, however, it became clear to everyone that the Queen had forced her way in to stop the proceedings and save her kin.

“She scowled when she saw us,” Robb said again, “She was only afraid and contrite after, when she saw everyone looking to her.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow. “A scowl? That is all the proof you have that she purposefully did this? That she meant for the boy to fall?”

King Robert was watching his wife with a hard look. Despite having poured himself a glass of wine, he had drank very little of it. His eyes were sharper than Robb had ever seen.

The Queen turned to her husband, her look equally as harsh. “She should be released. This is ridiculous. It was a simple accident.”

“A simple accident?” Father demanded and turned to face the king fully. “Your Grace, Orys was nearly killed. There’s nothing _simple_ about that.”

“But he is not dead,” the Queen countered sharply. Robb could not help but dislike her tone. Orys was an innocent child, shouldn't she be more relieved that he was safe, even if it was her kin who had put him at risk?

He bristled but stilled when Lord Arryn rested a hand on his shoulder. He did not need to turn to see that the Lord Hand and his father’s former guardian was giving him a warning look. It would not do for him to forget himself. He may not like her - and he certainly didn’t with the way she was acting - but Cersei Lannister was still the queen.

At the moment, however, he highly resented that fact.

“By mere happenstance and luck, the boy was saved,” Father said in turn, his voice even, “Are we to forget that? Even if it was an accident,” and Father’s tone left no room to doubt that he did not believe it was for even an instance, “she was responsible for Orys’s safety and she failed in that charge. She must be punished.”

“She has given years of good service. She should simply be let go and returned to Lannisport. I do not argue the need for punishment, simply the extremeness of it,” the Queen said, her tone dismissive.

“And I have not given years of good service to the crown, to see my own blood’s safety so callously dismissed?” Father’s voice did not raise but his voice was cold and furious. His face was sterner and colder than Robb had ever seen before.

The mood in the chamber shifted dramatically at that. Everyone began to look uneasy, as though it finally occurred to them that this could be a real break in relationships between the Crown and one of the Great Houses. He wondered what else they thought this could mean. Surely they had not expected Father to simply accept his grandson’s near death, had they?

Robb kept his eye on the Kingslayer and wished he had brought a sword or any kind of weapon. He did not like the way the Kingslayer was fingering his.

Lord Stannis stood abruptly, his face thunderous. He looked at no one but his brother. “Your Grace.”

It was all he said, but it was apparently all he needed to say.

King Robert looked at his brother and then nodded. “The maid will be punished,” he said flatly. “She will be let go and returned to Lannisport, but not before she is questioned. She will not be tortured,” He cast a look at his wife who had opened her mouth in rebellion.  “But she _will_ be questioned.”

The queen made an angry noise and seemed to be wrestling for words. Father and Lord Stannis did not look fully appeased, but the Lord Arryn looked approving.

“Enough!” the king shouted when the queen moved to speak again. “I’ve made up my mind and that’s it.”

Robb barely had the sense of mind to bow to both the king and the queen as he left the room, he was still so furious. Lord Arryn left him to corral both Father and Lord Stannis, so Robb went swiftly back to tell both Johanna and Lord Renly what had occurred.

Ser Loras was seated inside, next to Lord Renly, when he returned and his arrival interrupted whatever they had been speaking of. When she saw it was him, Johanna sat up slowly, shifting Orys from her chest to her lap. His nephew was sleeping soundly and Robb was relieved to see it.

He spoke quickly, telling them all what had happened, not even caring what Ser Loras’s stake in this was. He was still so angry he could hardly believe it. When he had learned how his uncle Brandon had died, Robb had not understood why he had gone to King’s Landing as he had, but now Robb understood it all too well. He was so angry he wanted to do something as equally rash.

Lord Renly must have seen it for he motioned Robb to sit and poured him a glass of wine. “Drink,” he said shortl., “It won’t do anyone any good for you to act on that anger of yours.”

Robb grimaced but obeyed.

“The queen was tolerant of me before,” Johanna said lowly. “What changed her mind? Surely she does not think Orys a threat to her children? She has two healthy sons.”

Ser Loras shook his head slowly. “And yet she must. I wish my grandmother were here. She would be able to read this situation better than any of us.”

“Ha, that is only too true,” Lord Renly said with a sardonic chuckle. “The Queen of Thorns would have this all sorted out before dinner. A pity Highgarden is so far away.”

“What are we going to do?” Robb asked, still frustrated.

“It all depends on what the maid says,” Lord Renly said grimly. “But we’ll have to guard Orys. Cersei is vain and cruel, but she is not completely without her wits. She was too public this time, left too many things to chance. She’ll not make the same mistake twice.”

“Then I must win the lords of Dragonstone to me,” Johanna said slowly. “Along with the people. If they hold personal loyalty to me and my son, it is less likely they will accept Lannister coin.”

“You already have the people,” Ser Loras pointed out. “They all adore you.”

“Still, it won’t hurt to be extra attentive to them. I’ll bring a few stormlords with me to celebrate Orys’s first nameday. Make it apparent with whom I’m standing,” Lord Renly said grimly.

“The North is too far away,” Robb said quietly, worried.

“That doesn’t diminish its power,” Lord Renly countered. “Tywin Lannister won’t be happy about this. Like Lord Arryn, Tywin Lannister doesn’t want any conflicts in the realm. It’s bad for his business and he knows how few friends House Lannister has, especially when compared to House Stark. That doesn’t mean, however, that we shouldn’t tighten security around Orys anyway. For whatever reason, the Lannisters see Orys as a threat. We have to guard against that.”

Johanna nodded eagerly at that and Robb went to join her on the bed, wanting reassure himself once more that Orys still breathed. He felt exhausted and spent now. The other three either felt the same or sensed his mood for they were quiet as well.

Later, Father and Lord Stannis joined them and after Father checked on Orys and saw he was safe with his own eyes, the rest of them shuffled out to leave Lord Stannis and Johanna alone, guards posted at the door.

And later still, when the night was half way done, they would all be woken up to the news that someone had slit Alana Lannister’s throat before she could be questioned.

*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some family time at Dragonstone.

The near accident soured the mood of their party. It had been a relief to depart but three days later. In that time Johanna had not let Orys out of her sight and Stannis had taken to going through his work at a small desk in the quarters aligned to his and close to his wife and son.

When they left, his wife had only looked at him, as she clutched their son to her. He had merely nodded in return.

“We will trust no one but our own with our son from now on, my lady,” He had assured her, darkly but firmly. “And Orys shall not accompany us to King’s Landing again.”

Her relief had been only too clear. “It will be as you say, my lord.”

Quietly seeing to it the rest of the household was informed of its lord’s wishes, Ser Davos reported that his people were genuinely outraged at the thought of Orys being killed due to a maid’s carelessness. He had reported with a wry grin that Mistress Cole had sternly ordered the knight to inform their lord and lady that Dragonstone would not “share in Lannister foolishness” and would keep a firm eye and ear on their little lord.

So far, Stannis had seen nothing to prove that accusation false. Mistress Cole was a sharp eyed woman who had come into Stannis’s service after the plague and had quickly proven herself invaluable.

Their return to Dragonstone was heartily welcomed. Lord Stark and his heir had stayed equally as long, departing the day before Stannis and his party. The Lord of Winterfell had too been soured by the events, though he was no less warm in his goodbyes to Johanna and Orys because of it.

It had given Stannis great amusement to see to see how displeased Robb Stark was with the attention that Robert paid to his sister, not that Robert, as willfully blind as ever, had noticed. Stanis, however, had noticed, along with most of the court, and it was enough for Stannis to look rather favorably upon his much younger goodbrother.

Lord Stark seemed determined to ignore it, or at least not say anything about it, but his cold and unhappy disapproval spoke volumes to anyone who witnessed it. Unlike Lord Arryn, Lord Stark was not blind to Robert’s faults; in addition, by the pensive look on his face and some comments he had made to Stannis, it seemed that after so many years of being parted, it had surprised Stark how changed Robert was from the boy he had been.

Stannis could sympathize with such a feeling, though he did not understand it. He rather thought Robert hadn’t changed much at all; instead, it seemed he had finally grown into the flawed man that had always been lurking within his brother’s younger shell.

But like with Renly, being around Eddard Stark and engaging in civilized discourse, had left Stannis surprised by how he could get along with the man - his goodfather, though he, of course, preferred not to dwell on that - when time and a chance to truly interact with one another was there.

Still, he was glad to be back in Dragonstone, holding his son in his lap as he read over the accounts of his lands. Orys was content to remain in his father’s lap as he chewed on his soft toy, his first teeth beginning to grow in. He had his son to himself for the afternoon as Johanna and Shireen were spending time with one another; his wife was dutiful in making sure she split her attention evenly between Orys and Shireen, refusing to neglect her stepdaughter in favor of her own flesh and blood.

It made Stannis’s already fond heart grow even fonder of her.

The two had taken to the beach where Johanna often practiced her sword play, learning eagerly from Stannis’s master-at-arms and Ser Loras whenever the knight was visiting with Renly. Today, they had set up archery targets, as Johanna had a modest skill with a bow and Shireen was eager to learn.

His daughter had no interest in a sword, something Stannis was grateful for. While he indulged Johanna in her whims, unable to help doing so, he was not quite so willing to let his daughter do the same. There was a wildness in Johanna that Stannis found himself liking but, fortunately, his daughter was of a more gentle stock. Still, it was only archery she had expressed an interest in and Stannis saw no harm in that. It was a more harmless, feminine pursuit, especially when done for sport. Shireen was even beginning to show some skill at it, hitting her targets more frequently now these days, as well, something Stannis could not help but be proud of.

It was not overly proper, but it made Shireen happy. Stannis was well aware that few things made his daughter truly happy, marred as her face was and how she felt about it. It was simple enough to grant her this joy.

With the ladies of the house thus occupied, it left Stannis and Orys to their own devices in the quiet of Stannis’s solar, something he enjoyed immensely. He never grew tired of the sight of his healthy and thriving son. The boy was growing strong and was a pleasant babe to be around; he was more often than not happily giggling and babbling to himself, eager to play with his toys and starting to crawl about the room as he neared his seventh month.

His son was a happy creature, so different than Stannis himself, but no less cared for because of it.

And to have his son whole and safe in his arms… Well, that was a blessing Stannis knew to hold on to. He still burned with anger to remember the maid’s carelessness, to remember how close they all came to losing Orys. If Robb Stark’s horse had not thrown a shoe, he and Johanna would not have returned early from their ride and there would have been no one to save Orys. To be grateful for a lost horseshoe! It made him angrier than he had been in a long time. It had taken all his self-control and Johanna’s persuasion for him to depart from King’s Landing with any sort of decorum. It rankled deeply to know this was a plot-and a Lannister plot at that. All that they had was circumstantial evidence and Stannis was now forced to relay on Jon Arryn and his younger brother for help. He had no head for political intrigues. It was to Renly-and through him the Tyrells-that the bulk of this would fall. That was particularly bitter. To be indebted to Mace Tyrell of all people...! But for the sake of his son, he would push past all his distaste. The Lannisters had made a mistake in targeting his son and Stannis meant for them to pay the price for it.

Johanna joined him in his chambers that night, as was their custom since Orys was born. For reasons Stannis could not explain to anyone who asked, the two slept together, even when they did not lie with one another. Perhaps it was habit learned through months in Winterfell and on the road with one another or just habit formed because Stannis was gone so often. Whichever it was, it was their custom, something they had held to even in King’s Landing.

It was sweet to embrace her and lie with her. He was not quite consumed by her but she elicited a heady feeling in him, a desire to be close to her. It was gratifying to see that she felt the same. The look in her eyes when she came to him was always hungry, passion dilating her pupils.

In the aftermath, it was sweet to hold her against him. The feel of Johanna in his arms was intoxicating. How frightening it was, to be able to better understand Robert. If his brother had felt even half the emotions Stannis felt for Johanna, had felt them for Lyanna Stark, it was perhaps understandable that he was such a wreck after losing her.

Tonight it was clear Johanna had something on her mind. She was in a thoughtful mood and she absently mindedly traced patterns onto Stannis’s chest. It roused Stannis to exert himself since it was a rare mood in her. His wife did not usually hesitate to speak her mind, now that she had grown comfortable with him.

“Is everything all right?” he asked. “You seem preoccupied.”

She grimaced. “Am I that obvious?” she asked rhetorically. Then she sighed and bit her lips, a sign of hesitancy Stannis had not seen in quite some time.

“It has been nearly a year since Orys was born, my lord.”

Residual pride stirred within him at the thought. Stannis might not be particularly good with children - or emotions, one might say - but he was fiercely proud of his own children. Orys and Shireen were some of the few things he took pride in and he was glad of it.

But he did not understand why this concerned Johanna.

“It has,” he agreed. “Would you care to do something to celebrate it?”

He could not quite hide his distaste of the idea. Stannis hated the waste of festivals, tourneys and feasts. The loud and lavish parties of King’s Landing had only reinforced this distaste.

His wife chuckled. “I would and I will. Your bannermen will expect nothing else, husband mine.”

The time, he grimaced openly. He hated having to host the minimal lords sworn to Dragonstone. Not a one of them was properly respectful, in Stannis’s mind, and all they did was reinforce the insult he felt Dragonstone was. It bothered him deeply that there were so few lords and that they were among the poorest in resources. How could Dragonstone be considered one of the Great Houses if it was so poor?

Still, under Johanna’s gentle touch, Dragonstone had unveiled a glory to it that Stannis had not seen since he had led the fleets to it, back when it had been under Targaryen rule. The black stones shone in the sun again, no longer looking rough and one storm away from collapsing. The Garden bloomed and, due to the plants from Highgarden, the island was splashed with more color than ever before. The main path leading to the castle was line with carefully selected trees and flowers, no longer the dank and broken path way it had been before. There was even a sweet chill in the air from the newly planted godswood, thanks to the seedling sent by Lord Stark for his daughter, so that she might have a place of worship.

Even the interior of Dragonstone was no longer bleak and desolate. Johanna had ordered new furniture and weavings, along with small decorations to liven up the castle. And everywhere were the glass winter roses Johanna loved so much. It was an indulgence that Stannis knew not how to explain to anyone else. All he knew was that it was a simple thing that made his wife happy and so there was no reason to not do so.

“No,” Johanna said in a slow tone, drawing Stannis’s attention back to her. “I have a different consideration in mind, my lord. I was just curious, if you were satisfied with our pace?”

“Our pace?” Stannis repeated. He felt confused and detested such a feeling.

More hastily, likely sensing his changing mood, Johanna clarified. “It took me nearly a full year to become pregnant with Orys,” she explained, “And I have not gotten with child again in the year since. Are you disappointed?” she asked plainly.

Ah. So that was what his wife was worrying about. Selyse had feared similar and every stillbirth and miscarriage had grown to weigh more heavily on her. He had never reproached her for either but neither could he ever find the proper words to comfort and reassure her. The more superstitious would say that Selyse’s despair had contributed to her final illness, preventing her from finding the strength to survive.

Stannis did not believe that. Did not many others die in that illness, the one that swept through the island? Even Patchface had not been immune, sickening and dying much to Shireen’s grief. The fool’s unnatural luck had run out, dying of the same sickness that took Stannis’s first wife. And whatever had passed between Stannis and Selyse, Stannis knew that Selyse had loved their daughter. For Shireen’s sake, if she could have, his first wife would have lived.

“I have suffered many disappointments in my life,” he said honestly. “Our son is not one of them. We have Orys and we have Shireen. If they are my only children, I would be content.”

It was a longer speech than Stannis was wont to give but Stannis was more inclined to speak freely tonight. The more time he spent around Johanna, the more he spoke openly to her. From what he could remember, he had always had his mother’s more steady nature. Father had been a large man with a larger smile and passion but, unlike Robert, he had been able to temper it, being a man of good sense as well.

Until he met Johanna and took her for his own by royal command, he had believed the Baratheon temperament had passed him by completely.

“I have never asked you this before,” Johanna murmured, surprised. She propped herself up so she could look him in the eyes. “Would you like more children?” she asked curiously.

For a moment, the question took his breath away. Did he want more children? More sons like Orys, more daughters like Shireen? He imagined Dragonstone, occupied by his progeny. Sons to sit at his feet and learn statecraft, as he had done with his own father. More daughters to follow Johanna about - daughters with Johanna’s smile, with her laugh. He imagined a Dragonstone where the halls were filled with the voices of his family.

“Yes. I would like more children,” he told her and then he rolled them over, pinning her beneath him. She looked up at him, her eyes once more darkening with lust.

“Stannis,” she breathed her voice full of desire. “Husband.”

He moved, ducking his head down so his teeth scraped the hardening nipple of her breast. She breathed in sharply, shuddering, her hands coming up to rank down his back. No doubt it the morning he would once again bear his wife’s marks.

Stannis smiled.

“Wife,” he growled and moved up to kiss her fiercely.

*

Shireen grinned widely as she splashed through the waves. Her feet were bare and the bottom half of her dress was wet but she felt more alive than she ever had before. This was better than playing in the garden with Patchface, better than when Father used to come to read to her, better than anything that had come before because she knew that if she turned around, her family was still going to be there, smiling at her.

She wasn't alone anymore.

She missed Mother and Patchface like an ache. Mother had been distant, but Shireen had never doubted that Mother cared. That Mother loved her, as much as Mother was able to. And Patchface might have frightened her at times, with his odd songs and dances, with the mad glint in his eyes, but he had been her friend. She missed them both terribly.

But, in her heart, she couldn’t be mad that the Gods had taken them from her. Not when they gave her Johanna in return.

Shireen adored her lady stepmother and was so grateful that Johanna felt the same. Johanna was always kind to her and spent time with her. They read together, played with Orys together, went to the sept and the growing godswood together and Johanna was even teaching her archery! She liked to review Shireen’s lessons and go over them with Shireen, helping her with what she did not understand and praising her for what she did. Johanna was there, gloriously there, always present and available for Shireen to speak with and just be with. She hadn't even known how lonely she had been previously until Johanna came and filled up those empty spaces in Shireen’s life.

It made Shireen feel warm and shy.

Johanna liked it when Shireen followed her on her rounds of the castle, to check up on the servants and to see that everything was in order. She didn’t mind that, she liked everyone who worked in Dragonstone but she was a little shyer on accompanying Johanna to the village and seeing to the comfort of everyone there. No one was ever rude to her - everyone was always kind to her, even those who could not hide their distaste of her scars - but Shireen still felt shy.

Still, she tried to be brave for Johanna, because Johanna’s smile and praise, made Shireen feel good.

Johanna’s siblings were kind to her too, though she only knew them from letters and mostly just Robb, Arya and Bran. They wrote to her because Johanna loved her and, in their minds, that made her family too now. She loved it. She loved writing to them, especially Bran. Bran loved to hear about Dragonstone and the island and he loved her pictures of it. He was the first person she had shared her drawings with and it made her so happy that he thought they were good, that he liked them and said they made him want to visit.

Her life was full of small wonders and happiness since Father had brought Johanna home.

But even more than she loved Johanna, and she loved Johanna quite a lot, she loved her little brother.

And Orys loved her too.

Her little brother was always so happy to see her, smiling and crawling to her with happy noises and laughter. Shireen loved him most of all. She couldn’t wait for him to be older, for when they could really start doing stuff together. She hoped by then she'd be good enough at archery to start teaching him. She rather thought she would be because both Johanna and Ser Loras praised her skills. Even her kinsman Ser Axell was impressed by her skills.

She hadn’t thought Ser Axell liked her much, previously, but perhaps that was only because they hadn’t spent much time together before. She knew, though she didn’t know if she was supposed to know or not, that Johanna had asked Ser Axell to tell Shireen stories of House Florent and Mother, so that Shireen did not forget them. Shireen was glad Johanna had done that for her. She had wanted to ask Ser Axell herself but she had been too afraid that he would say no.

But Johanna had asked him and he had said yes so now, two nights a week, Ser Axell joined them for dinner, where he would tell them all the stories about her mother and House Florent that he knew. She looked forward to those nights almost as much as she looked forward to the nights where Ser Davos and his family joined them. She liked Ser Davos’s sons a lot. They were all nice and fun.

Biting her lip to try and keep herself from grinning too widely, she turned around to watch.

Johanna and Father were each holding Orys’s hand and going slowly. Orys had just started to walk, right when Father had arrived home from King’s Landing. Johanna was of the opinion that Orys had started walking because Father was home and Shireen couldn't argue with that. Orys had taken his first step to Father, after all.

Orys toddled slowly but steadily forward, his little face screwed up in concentration. Both Johanna and Father had their eyes on Orys, watching him carefully, Johanna with a wide smile and Father with his little smile, the one that said how happy and pleased he was. Shireen liked that smile. She had seen it a lot more since Johanna had come into their lives.

She was proud as she watched her little brother make his slow way forward. Sometimes she felt her heart would burst as she looked at Orys; she was just so thrilled to be an older sister. She was determined to be the best sister ever, to always be there for Orys when he needed her. She couldn't imagine ever leaving her brother behind. It was going to be the two of them forever, she just knew it.

The waves pulled at Shireen’s feet, making her giggle. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was everything she ever wanted out of life. The waves and the wind and her family’s happiness.

This was all she needed to be happy.

*


	4. Chapter 4

*

“You are graceful and quick,” Ser Loras observed in an approving voice as they took a short break, resting upon the sands, their bare feet being lapped at by the waves. Johanna took a sip of her water and smiled at the knight. She was burning off her pregnancy weight much quicker now that she had returned to practicing with Ser Loras again and she was well pleased by that.

“My father allowed me to learn how to fight alongside my brothers and Theon, like my Aunt Lyanna wished to and the Morments of Bear Island do. Robb is strong and fast and I’ve always tried to keep up with him.” She continued on in a more rueful voice, “That hasn’t always been the easiest thing to do.”

Ser Loras gave her a sympathetic glance before speaking, easy confidence in his voice. “He’ll always be stronger, that is true, but your speed is your strongest asset. That’s what we’ll be working on the most.”

“But not at this very moment, I hope, brother!” a clear and musical voice called out from behind them. Both of them turned and smiled to see the young woman walking towards them.

This time, when Ser Loras and Renly had come to visit, for the celebration of Orys’s first name day, they had brought with them-in addition to the Storm lords Renly had promised-two of Loras’s siblings: the heir to Highgarden, Willas Tyrell and the only daughter and famed beauty, Margaery Tyrell.

Margaery was a beautiful and sweet young woman but Johanna recognized the cunning gleam in her eyes which bespoke of her intelligence. Her wit was as keen as her smile and Johanna liked both. Willas was equally as pleasant and likeable, his manner similar to his siblings’ but far more well read, Johanna was quick to note. There were depths to the man that most would overlook due to his injury.

She thought Sansa would greatly love all the Tyrells. They all seemed to be as gallant and beautiful as the songs her younger sister loved.

The Tyrells were not the only ones who had come. The lords sworn to Dragonstone had arrived, along with a few of the other lords of the Crownsland and even some Reach lords. Many of the Stormlords had arrived as well, the Estermonts prominent among them, coming to call on claims of blood ties and loyalty to House Baratheon. All expressed their wishes to see Stannis’s son and the future Lord of Dragonstone.

Though, of course, Johanna and her family had other motives for gathering them as well. The young mother had not forgotten that her son had nearly been _murdered_. She hungered for justice. And she knew, that if she could win them, these men would help her receive it.

Stannis was a grudging host, and had always been so, from the tales Johanna had heard. Thus, she was the one who lead the party and kept the guests occupied and she had awoke today full of a wildness she could barely contain. Slipping away down to the beach to practice with Ser Loras was one of the first moments she had had to herself since their guests had arrived-and it was a moment she had desperately needed.

She suspected she knew the reason Margaery had sought them out, however, and couldn’t help but despair a little at it.

“Have my lords grown restless in our absence, my lady?” she asked, smiling a little, unable to help the curl of her lips.

The Rose of Highgarden laughed, though it was twinged with mocking. She did not look impressed either. “Indeed. They grow restless and hungry. But also curious to why you were sneaking off alone with my dear elder brother.”

Ser Loras burst out laughing and Johanna sighed, resisting the urge to slap her hand against her face and groan.

“Let me guess,” she drawled sardonically, “Lord Velaryon just happened to wonder that aloud when Renly made a comment he didn’t like.”

“According to what Willas said, it did seem suspiciously timed,” Margaery agreed dryly, too well bred to roll her eyes as she dearly wanted to.

“Who took the bait?” Ser Loras asked curiously as they stood up, “And how did Lord Stannis take it?”

“Poorly, I imagine,” Johanna said dryly.

Margaery chuckled. “I hear he was quite incensed. He revealed what the two of you were off doing,” she confirmed, “And the Lord of Driftmark is pleased, for once. The other lords, however, were far more surprised and so I left Willas to marshal them.”

“Child’s play for our eldest brother,” Ser Loras declared with amusement.

“Indeed!” Margaery agreed, “But I thought it best to fetch the two of you nonetheless. And don’t change! Come as you are and bring your swords. Let the lords see the truth of it for themselves.”

Johanna winced, laughing. “Ah what an impression I’ll be making,” she lamented, “The wild lady of Dragonstone, they’ll call me. My lady stepmother will be most pleased.”

She had meant it half in jest but it came out more honest than Johanna cared for. No doubt the pious Lord Sunglass would be heavily frowning, seeing it as proof that even legitimizing her could not sweep away the stain of her bastard birth. Even such lords as Farring and Celtigar would see this as proof that she was nothing more than a northern barbarian, just as the slanderous stories of the South made them out to be.

This was not the impression Johanna had wanted to leave her lords with.

She wanted their respect, their _loyalty_ , not for them to fixate on her youth. She needed these men.

Privately, Johanna cursed herself for a fool. What had she been thinking, coming down here? But she had been so restless, near to pacing with energy she needed to spend. When Loras had made his suggestion, she had hugged him tightly in gratitude and relief. However, she had been clearly too optimistic in hoping her lords-grown men all-could behave long enough for her to take a moment for herself.

Worse still, she needed these men. If something happened to Shireen or Orys because of this, she would never forgive herself. And it would be her fault, her wildness and the tiny speck of wolf’s blood she had in her that led to it.

Margaery’s lips twisted with her displeasure. Johanna had quickly learned that the Tyrells had a true family love and loyalty to one another, as the Starks did, though they had the ambition House Stark lacked as well. Johanna’s relationship with both Ser Loras and Renly had made the other Tyrells inclined to look at her with friendly eyes. And Margaery was clearly not pleased that Lord Monford had chosen to taunt Renly and Stannis with taunts about Johanna and Loras spending unsupervised time alone together, daring Renly to come out and say why what he was insinuating could never be true.

“Ignore Sunglass,” Ser Loras rolled his eyes, easily imagining which lord would be most upfront about his disapproval, “He thinks far worse of Renly and me.”

“Oh he is an idiot,” Johanna sighed in agreement, “But unfortunately I shall have to deal with him for many more years to come.”

“That is truly the most unfortunate thing,” Margaery agreed and then turned cheerful again, “So let us go and shock him into an early grave!”

Both Ser Loras and Johanna bust into peals of laughter and joined Margaery in walking back up the path, climbing the poorly hewn stairs that led up to Dragonstone from the beach-or cove, truly-that Ser Loras and Johanna had chosen as their place of practice.

Ser Loras led the way as Margaery and Johanna, arms linked together, fell into conversation. Margaery had a deep love of horses and it was a passion Johanna shared. She had loved racing across the northern plains on the horse she had begged Father for her entire tenth year and had always sought to seize any free moment to indulge in her passion.

There were few things better, in Johanna’s mind and it was how she had spent her comfortable years in Winterfell. Learning alongside Robb in swords and numbers; sitting between Sansa and Arya and sewing; and riding-all of those activities had been her passions. She could not wait until Orys was old enough to begin learning how to ride a horse so that the two of them could make trips about the island together. Neither Shireen nor Stannis had a love of horses but Johanna hoped her son would come to inherit her love of them.

She and Margaery also playfully debated between the two of them the merits of their favorite sports. Hawking was a spot for noble ladies in the South, and something Johanna knew Lady Catelyn had been eager to teach her own daughters, but, in the North, women could join the Hunting Parties alongside the men, if they so desired. Margaery was intensely fond of hawking; loving the birds she had had a hand in training herself while Johanna was equally fond of hunting, the satisfaction of a bow in her hand and the triumph of success.

They gently argued over which spot was better as a form of entertainment during their walk, with some asides from Margaery as she sighed over having to climb up the stairs and admiring Johanna and Shireen for making such a trip almost daily.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Margaery added as they came to the top, “the view is indeed most lovely but my, what a journey! And on stairs merely roughly hewn from the cliff! I could never dare such a thing in anything less than full daylight.”

Johanna laughed easily. “Nor am I such a fool to do so either! Still, it gets easier to navigate these stairs after the first few times. My lords, I trust you are well,” she called in greeting, plastering an easy smile onto her face. She would not show these men her doubts.

The gathered lords all made the proper bows and well wishes but Johanna could easily spot the mixture of pleasure at seeing her and unhappiness at the situation in her husband’s eyes. Renly had an apologetic look on his face and Shireen looked on the verge of tears, likely blaming herself for not being an appropriate substitute. This, Johanna noted wryly, had likely done nothing to help with Shireen’s view of herself. For that alone, she would dearly love to slap Lord Monford.

Willas Tyrell, on the other hand, had a severe look on his face that clearly bespoke of his anger; the covert and displeased looks he kept sending Lord Monford, which said lord was artfully ignoring, spoke volumes of who he was angry with.

Johanna had secured Stannis’s permission before slipping down to the beach with Ser Loras. She had left Shireen nominally in charge of the household in all but emergencies but she had suspected Shireen would spend most of her time holed up with Orys and leave the household affairs in the capable hands of Margaery and Mistress Cole.

Shireen’s opinion of herself was still too low, in Johanna’s eyes. She almost wished she could introduce her and Sansa to one another. Surely the presence of a girl not that much older than Shireen, and one as sweet as Sansa, would help her overcome her shyness? Or at least that was Johanna’s hope.

What stopped her from actually going through with such a scheme was the fear that Sansa really would detest Shireen because of her scars-which would only reinforce Shireen’s fears. Johanna didn’t think that would happen, that Sansa would quickly overcome her pity once she got to know Shireen, but she often found Sansa hard to predict. Unlike the rest of her siblings, Johanna and Sansa had not been close for many years. It meant that Johanna did not know Sansa as a person as well as she would like.

The servants had known at once where she was going and what she was going to do, once she had informed the household of her plans. Ser Axel hadn’t even looked disapproving this time, having seemed to finally accept this quirk of hers. Even, Maester Pylos had commented that the exertion would be good for her in regaining her pre-pregnancy weight before swiftly admonishing her to be sure not to overdo it.

The visiting lords, on the other hand, were meant to be in council for the next three hours with Stannis, going over the states of the lands and holdfasts sworn to each of them. Also, in his role as the Master of the Ships, Stannis had wanted to speak about the state and readiness of Westeros’s fleet with the men who made up the bulk of it. Johanna had been quite sure that the lords would never even know she had slipped away to practice her sword fighting.

The Gods truly did love their little jokes, she thought ruefully.

Clearly, though, something had gone wrong in the council for Lord Monford to make his deliberately baiting comments and for the lords to come out to greet her and Ser Loras themselves.

Johanna made sure none of her displeasure showed on her face, schooling her expression to a warm and welcoming one.

“Lady Baratheon,” the Lord of Driftmark greeted a wide smile on his face. More than half the men present stiffened, no doubt in anticipation of what the temperas lord was going to say next. But the fair haired lord, still a Targaryen loyalist after all these years-even if he was less vocal about it in a Baratheon ruled Westeros-was jovial, for a change. “Did you have a good lesson?” he asked eagerly. “How are you progressing?”

Johanna smiled more warmly this time. “Quite well, I believe, my lord. But perhaps my teacher has a better opinion of that.”

Ser Loras chuckled. “Lady Baratheon is an excellent student. If her ladyship was a man, I would not fear to face her in the jousts but I would certainly be wary in the melee tournaments.”

She could feel her cheeks color with rosy pleasure. She caught her husband’s eyes and she smiled at him. There was a pleased look in his eyes as he nodded back, pride and approval warming his face.

The gathered lords stirred at that declaration, looking at her with new and appraising eyes. Lord Velaryon’s smile widened even further, his eyes, the same near violent shade as her son’s, nearly sparkled with glee.

“A proper lady of Dragonstone,” he laughed, “It has been generations since we’ve had one of those!”

Lord Bar Emmon obviously followed his fellow lord’s thoughts as he chuckled as well. “Aye,” he said, “Not since the Queens Who Never Were. It’ll be good to have one again.”

“They were dragon riders,” Lord Sunglass disagreed, his shock at his companions’ words obvious, “There is no need for a true highborn lady to know the arts of men these days.”

Johanna stiffened and had to fight the urge to bare her teeth like a wolf at Lord Sunglass. He was everything she had come to dread about people-an inability to see past her birth and judge her on the merits of her actions.

She privately thanked the Gods again for giving her a husband who was not at all like that.

Her husband was also angered by his vassal’s remarks. “On that, my lord,” Stannis said in the coldest voice Johanna had ever heard from him, “We must disagree.”

Lord Velaryon gave his fellow lord a chilling glance. “You say true highborn ladies have no need of such skills? My, my,” he said and his voice turned bitingly sweet, “I have no doubt the Princess Elia couldn’t agree more with such sentiment.”

Monford Velaryon could not have more effectively silenced everyone gathered if he had struck each and every one of them. Lord Sunglass went a deathly pale and fell silent, his expression agonized.

For the first time, Johanna truly comprehended that, except for the Stormlords present, all the lords whom stood before her had fought for the Targaryens. The Princess had been wed to Rhaegar Targaryen-though she had deserved far better than that, Johanna thought cynically-who had been the Crown Prince and proclaimed lord of Dragonstone.

Had the Princess Elia come to meet the men sworn to Dragonstone during the years of her marriage? Could the men before her have seen the Princess Elia? Could they still remember her smile or the shade of her eyes?

Johanna wondered and knew she would never ask.

The last Targaryen Queen had died here as well, she remembered somberly. And these men must have made up the fleet which had defended her and which Stannis had defeated when he had taken Dragonstone.

Small wonder, she thought, that so many of the lords resented Stannis’s presence as much as Stannis resented the insult of Dragonstone.

She stepped forward, forcing a smile onto her face. “As you say, my lord Velaryon,” she said in an easy voice, “As you say. My lords and ladies let us return to Dragonstone. The evening meal will soon be served and I am sure we all must make ready for it.”

“Oh yes, quite so,” Margaery agreed but even her natural charm was subdued by the mention of Princess Elia. For every highborn lady, it was a reminder of what their fates could be if they were ever on the losing side of a war. “I know I would certainly welcome such a chance.”

Willas Tyrell rallied admirably, his dark expression dissolving. And yet his smile did not truly meet his eyes and she wondered if he was thinking of Elia’s brother, Prince Oberyn, who he was rumored to be friends with.

“And what sort of men would we be if we denied you?” he asked with an attempted smile, “My lords, we should indeed adjourn.”

Everyone rallied to agree, even though Stannis was silent and grave, and many were clearly discomforted. Lord Sunglass offered his arm to Johanna. Johanna took it, determined to be gracious if he said anything more but the other was silent instead, his eyes sad and distant.

Johanna and Margaery dominated the evening meal, trading japes and light discussion, in order to stir the mood back to a sweeter disposition. They controlled the attitude that evening and there was easy laughter and light discussion as a result. But, afterwards, the lords took to watching her more solemnly and with greater care.

She overheard the lords Farring and Chyttering discussing in hushed voices some of the rumors about the Queen, on the third day since the incident at the beach.

“They say she arranged the death of a couple of babes, born from maids at the Rock,” Farring murmured, “Because they were the king’s bastards.”

“Lannisters,” Chyttering agreed darkly, “If there was ever a House that needed to be toppled…! Lord Tywin has ruined them. Who can trust them now?”

“Aye. Too proud and not enough honor among them for any decent folk to follow them. I’m not looking forward to a Lannister ruled Westeros, I’ll tell you that right now,” Farring said grimly.

“It will be the ruin of the realm, mark my words.”

Their words chilled Johanna. She retired to her viewing room with her son and thought again how close he had come to death in King’s Landing-a death which had surely been ordered by the Lannisters.

For the last night before the majority of the lords departed, Johanna was determined to erase any thoughts that she was not enough of a proper lady for Dragonstone. She had conscripted Margaery and Shireen into her little conspiracy, asking them to help her figure out a way to prove herself.

“Music,” Margaery had said firmly. “It must be music.”

“Music?” Johanna asked with dismay, “I know only one instrument and I haven’t played in years.”

“You know an instrument? I didn’t know that,” Shireen commented, perking up and looking over with interest. Shireen had never been forced to learn and Johanna had yet to stir any interest in her in learning.

Privately, Johanna found that before she arrived, Shireen’s education had been lacking. All she had done, it seemed, was wander about with the now dead fool. Numbers, letters-those she had learned. But anything else had fallen wayside, as no one seemed to believe it was important for Shireen to learn household affairs or music or even sewing. Johanna had quickly taken to setting that right, though she had previously substituted archery for music lessons.

Johanna shook her head in response to her stepdaughter’s question. “I can play the harp,” she explained, “But I haven’t played in years. My lord father forbade me to do so.”

“He did what?” Margaery asked sharply, looking utterly astonished. “Why would Lord Stark do such a thing?”

“He never said why,” Johanna admitted, remembering the bitter taste of her heartbreak and anger. She had been devastated by her father’s decree, so much so that even Theon had attempted to comfort and cheer her up and Lady Stark had been unusually kind to her during those months. When Uncle Benjen had arrived for his next visit, she had rushed to him in tears, the words tumbling out of her in a jumbled explanation. Once he had sorted through what she was saying, her uncle’s face had darkened and he had gone at once to his brother, but to no avail. Lord Stark had stood firm and refused to relent.

Johanna had not touched a harp since.

“And what of Lady Stark?” Margaery asked shrewdly. As they were closer in age and much of the same temperament, Margaery and Johanna had formed an even friendship. They confessed small secrets and desires to one another and while Johanna had not spoken much of Lady Stark, her silence, as Margaery had said, spoke for itself.

An ugly feeling arose in her. “I do not know what Lady Stark thought of it,” she told them, “We spoke to each other only by necessity, to keep the peace of Winterfell.”

And yet Margaery had accurately named the person Johanna had always blamed for her father’s decision. She always thought it must have been Lady Stark who was behind her father’s decision. Why else would he deny her something she loved, if not to please his lady wife? Even the woman’s kindness to her during those heartbroken months did not change her feelings. What other reason could it have been? Lady Stark had always hated it when Johanna had done anything better than her siblings, even if it was a simple thing like having better table manners than Arya.

Johanna had still not forgotten the look on Lady Stark’s face the one time Septa Mordane had made the mistake of admonishing Arya’s manners, commenting that she should act more like Johanna. The Septa likely had not either, for she never did so again.

And yet a part of Johanna knew she was being unfair because Lady Stark had borne Johanna’s presence well, for the most part. There was never any overt cruelty but there had never been any warmth either.

Shireen shifted uncomfortably. “Did you like the harp?” she asked innocently, peering up at Johanna with curiosity in her eyes.

For a long moment, she couldn’t speak. The sheer longing that rose up inside her for the chance to play, for the chance to touch a harp again, was too intense for that. She had loved playing the harp and loved it still. The loss of it still made her heart ache and her breath catch in her throat.

“Well then,” Margaery said quietly, her eyes compassionate, “We had best go and find you a harp so that you can begin practicing, Johanna.

And so Johanna spent much of the last week before their guests were due to depart reconnecting and relearning how to play. Natural talent, she remembered Septa Mordane telling her once, in the early days of her first harp lessons, could only get Johanna so far. And while natural talent, Johanna had in spades, she still needed the time to relearn the instrument before her.

Lord Willas was quickly brought into their conspiracy as he had the best ear for music and he proved amendable to sitting with Johanna and listening to her play for as long as she needed to.

“I thought you played fine enough, when we first started,” he commented to her on the night before her performance. “And yet you only seem to get better every time you play.”

She laughed quietly. “You sound like my teachers. Septa Mordane loved listening to me play, even when I barely knew any real songs of note.” Her fingers rose and fell, plucking away delicately at the strings of the harp Ser Davos had found for her. “I used to secretly drag my harp in and play for Bran in his nursery. It made him happy.”

It hadn’t made Lady Stark happy but there was no need to mention that.

“And what of Orys?” Willas asked curiously, “How does your son like the harp?”

She laughed again. “Well enough! He likes the sad songs best, I find. Too much of me in him, I suppose.”

This time, it was Willas who laughed. “Well there are worse things to have too much of, my lady.”

When the last evening arrived, Johanna felt as assured in her skill as she ever would. Her fingers still knew the strings and her heart still knew the music. The notes came to her as naturally as it ever had.

“You shall play for us?” The gruff Lord Estermont asked, his resemblance to Stannis striking. He smiled and his old face was transformed by it, “A fine parting gift, Lady Baratheon.”

“I thank you for the compliment,” Johanna smiled sweetly at Stannis’s relative, “I can only hope my playing lives up to your kind words, my lord.”

“No doubt it will,” Lord Sunglass said approvingly, “The harp is a fine instrument for a lady to know.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Celtigar roll his eyes at the other lord’s words.

She bowed her head to the Lord of Sweetport Sound and then looked to her husband. He was as relaxed and content in company as she had ever seen him. He had heard enough snatches of her practice to know enough to not fear her embarrassing either of them. She gave him a soft smile, one he returned, and then began to play.

They had chosen the song deliberately, choosing the Lay of Durran’s Defiance. Johanna was quite pleased by the choice as she was naturally drawn to the sadder dirges and not the gay and lively tunes Sansa had favored and ever begged her to play. The Lay in question was a fine mixture of both, one that would nicely show her full skill, as Willas had commented.

She lost herself in the music, gently coaxing the song forth. She could see it in her mind, the great king meeting the ocean’s daughter and falling in love with her. She could see him standing proudly against the storms time and time again, at last emerging triumphant. Her song swelled with Durran’s victory, with the roar of the thwarted storm, and the last notes of a happy marriage played and Johanna’s voice died away.

There was silence after she finished.

She opened her eyes slowly, having closed them during her performance, fearing that she had made a fool of herself after all. But Shireen was smiling and Stannis was looking at her with a gaze of soft wonder and pride. Margaery was smiling, looking deeply moved, and Willas had a gentle and content look on his face; she thought she could see Renly holding Loras’s hand slightly out of view of the rest of the room.

Her guests were as moved as her family and friends. Lord Sunglass’s eyes were wet and shining; old Lord Estermont seemed lost in pleasant memories, a sweet smile on his face. Justin Massey was gazing at her in awe.

Lord Monford, however, was looking at her as though he had seen a ghost. His face was pale and his eyes were shocked. He looked at her with stunned disbelief, as though he could not believe his own eyes.

“Well done, my lady,” her husband said into the quiet, “That was a fine performance.”

She smiled softly at him. “Thank you, my lord.”

That stirred the other lords from their stupor.

“Yes,” Lord Estermont said quietly, his eyes far away, “Well done, my lady.”

“I have never heard a finer player,” Lord Massey declared vigorously.

“I have,” Lord Celtigar disagreed quietly, “But I have no doubts, my lady, that you are the finest player now alive.”

The others nodded and murmured in agreement, smiles on their faces.

Guncer Sunglass met his eyes and his were more welcoming than they had been this past month. “You played beautifully, my lady,” he said in a husky voice, “The best I have heard in years. I thank you for gracing us with this gift.”

“Indeed, my lady,” Lord Monford stirred at last and his eyes were full of wonder and delight. His voice was warmer and his smile wider than Johanna had ever seen. “You are a credit to your noble _father_ and his lineage.”

To that, the others hastily agreed but Johanna thought there was something a little strange about the emphasis Lord Monford placed on the word ‘father’ and the way he looked at her afterwards.

After that night, he bowed a little deeper to her and with more reverence, as though he was greeting a member of the Royal Family and not his sworn lady; he looked at her with triumph in his eyes. He took utter delight in Orys as well, showering him with gifts and he even sent his bastard half-brother to Dragonstone to serve them.

Aurane Waters was handsome, stalwart and loyal. He doted equally on Shireen and Orys and always bowed deeply to her. Stannis, of course, could not stand to have him around her but that too pleased her. As Stannis did not doubt Aurane’s loyalty, only being suspicious of his open affection for Johanna, she knew she had found a new guard for her husband when he went to King’s Landing. She would have preferred Ser Davos, of course, but Stannis preferred to have him guard his family while Stannis was away in the Capitol.

“The king will not be happy,” Stannis told her, lips twitching when she informed him of her plans. Johanna easily recognized the signs of mirth on her husband’s face.

“Oh?” she asked, arching an eyebrow, “Does His Grace take issue with me safeguarding my husband in the cesspool he calls home?”

Stannis rumbled in amusement. “He likely will when the man you have chosen to do so resembles Rhaegar Targaryen.”

She propped herself up on her elbows, surprised. “Does he?”

“He does. I still remember how the Dragon Prince looked, though the memory grows fainter,” Stannis confirmed. “Waters resembles him strongly.”

“Hmm,” Johanna lay back down, “Does this mean you won’t take Aurane with you?”

“I will take him,” Stannis grunted, “but only to please you, my lady.” Then, dark amusement in his voice, he added, “Robert could use the agitation. Perhaps it will remind him to do something besides grow fat.”

Johanna laughed.

When she informed Aurane Waters of her desire, he bowed deeply to her and looked at her with serious eyes.

“As you command, my lady. I would be honored to protect your lord and ensure Orys’s father always returns to him.”

“I thank you, ser,” she said quietly, “for the great loyalty you and your brother have shown me.”

“It is nothing more than you deserve,” Waters said cryptically, “my lady.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annddd that's the end of the second story in this trilogy! The third and final story takes us into GOT time and will be our longest one to date. It's still being written so don't expect to see it soon but know that we are hard at work on it! Thank you for all your lovely comments and kudos <33


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